Hotel Splendido
Enzyme writes, "what about awful hotels, B&Bs, or friends' houses where you've had no choice but to stay the night?"
What, the place in Oxford that had the mattresses encased in plastic (crinkly noises all night), the place in Blackpool where the night manager would drum to the music on his ipod on the corridor walls as he did his rounds, or the place in Lancaster where the two single beds(!) collapsed through metal fatigue?
Add your crappy hotel experiences to our list.
( , Thu 17 Jan 2008, 16:05)
Enzyme writes, "what about awful hotels, B&Bs, or friends' houses where you've had no choice but to stay the night?"
What, the place in Oxford that had the mattresses encased in plastic (crinkly noises all night), the place in Blackpool where the night manager would drum to the music on his ipod on the corridor walls as he did his rounds, or the place in Lancaster where the two single beds(!) collapsed through metal fatigue?
Add your crappy hotel experiences to our list.
( , Thu 17 Jan 2008, 16:05)
« Go Back
Scotland?! I've just remembered this
Many moons ago I had to go to the Isle of Bute in the wintertime for a very boring acoustic survey of a cheese factory (still awake?)
Well, having arrived in Largs at 9ish one cold wet night I thought I'd find a quaint little guest house to get some kip before catching the ferry the next morning.
WROOOOONG!!!!!!
I found precisely 1 place to stay, not a lot of choice but needs must etc so I went in to the bar where yet another hammer horror style silence happened, it seemed that every mutant on the west coast was assembled in the bar.
I asked the least revolting of them for the landlady, he/she/it pointed out a huge mound of crimplene-clad sweaty blubber that was chortling hysterically in the corner, probably at the physical attentions of the human weasel who was ramming a hand under her/it's dress all the while exclaiming undying love and demanding a blowjob! "Classy bird" I thought to myself.
I finally got her one good eye (from the three) to focus on me and asked for a room. She almost died from the shock of being spoken to by a human but peeled her sweaty (oh god I hope it was sweat) arse from the vinyl and, wheezing like an asthmatic walrus's uglier fatter hairier sister led me upstairs to a dark room. Putting the light on showed a very small but servicable room. Having negotiated the price down to £25.00 for bed and breakfast she waddled off with a promise to make me a sandwich to be collected at the bar. I had a shower in the very small yet strangely echoey bathroom and repaired to the bar.
It was a sight to behold when I walked in.
Walrus woman had just finished giving weasel boy a handjob.
In the bar.
With all of the locals watching.
Licking the fluids from her gargantuan hand she wandered behind the bar to hand me my sandwich.
Unwrapped.
No plate.
Same unwashed hand that had been pleasuring weasel boy not 5 minutes earlier.
I politely declined and half-ran to my room with the dreaded cry of "I can see to you later if you like" ringing in my ears.
After barricading my room door with the tv stand (no actual tv, just the stand) I fell into a fitful sleep. As is my wont, I awoke and needed a piss like a four-dicked mule so I went to the bathroom, As all men will know, having a piss first thing in the morning means working around the morning glory that is both a man's blessing and his curse, especially when desperate to pee.
I adopted the statutory "one hand on the wall behind the cistern, feet apart, 45 degrees to the floor" stance and was just letting fly whan the wall collapsed.
The wall between the guest room bathrooms was ONE layer of plasterboard held in round the edges with what looked like bath sealant. I fell through ONTO walrus woman whose bathroom was back-to-back with mine, spraying us both with water and other things from MY side and knocking her, mid shit, from her throne. Undeterred and still horrifically drunk from the night before she lay giggling on the floor like a shit-covered blubber slick.
Luckily I had a wet towel from last night's shower to clean myself up with before I packed in record time, ran downstairs, dropped £25.00 on the bar and ran like a scared little girl to the safety of my car. I have been shot at more than once, found a suspicious package with wires under a car I was about to drive, I've benn stabbed, attacked more times than I can remember but I have never been so scared in my life.
I recommended it as THE place to stay in Largs to my hated boss (the mentalist with cancer from previous posts).
I don't think he liked it.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 15:07, 20 replies)
Many moons ago I had to go to the Isle of Bute in the wintertime for a very boring acoustic survey of a cheese factory (still awake?)
Well, having arrived in Largs at 9ish one cold wet night I thought I'd find a quaint little guest house to get some kip before catching the ferry the next morning.
WROOOOONG!!!!!!
I found precisely 1 place to stay, not a lot of choice but needs must etc so I went in to the bar where yet another hammer horror style silence happened, it seemed that every mutant on the west coast was assembled in the bar.
I asked the least revolting of them for the landlady, he/she/it pointed out a huge mound of crimplene-clad sweaty blubber that was chortling hysterically in the corner, probably at the physical attentions of the human weasel who was ramming a hand under her/it's dress all the while exclaiming undying love and demanding a blowjob! "Classy bird" I thought to myself.
I finally got her one good eye (from the three) to focus on me and asked for a room. She almost died from the shock of being spoken to by a human but peeled her sweaty (oh god I hope it was sweat) arse from the vinyl and, wheezing like an asthmatic walrus's uglier fatter hairier sister led me upstairs to a dark room. Putting the light on showed a very small but servicable room. Having negotiated the price down to £25.00 for bed and breakfast she waddled off with a promise to make me a sandwich to be collected at the bar. I had a shower in the very small yet strangely echoey bathroom and repaired to the bar.
It was a sight to behold when I walked in.
Walrus woman had just finished giving weasel boy a handjob.
In the bar.
With all of the locals watching.
Licking the fluids from her gargantuan hand she wandered behind the bar to hand me my sandwich.
Unwrapped.
No plate.
Same unwashed hand that had been pleasuring weasel boy not 5 minutes earlier.
I politely declined and half-ran to my room with the dreaded cry of "I can see to you later if you like" ringing in my ears.
After barricading my room door with the tv stand (no actual tv, just the stand) I fell into a fitful sleep. As is my wont, I awoke and needed a piss like a four-dicked mule so I went to the bathroom, As all men will know, having a piss first thing in the morning means working around the morning glory that is both a man's blessing and his curse, especially when desperate to pee.
I adopted the statutory "one hand on the wall behind the cistern, feet apart, 45 degrees to the floor" stance and was just letting fly whan the wall collapsed.
The wall between the guest room bathrooms was ONE layer of plasterboard held in round the edges with what looked like bath sealant. I fell through ONTO walrus woman whose bathroom was back-to-back with mine, spraying us both with water and other things from MY side and knocking her, mid shit, from her throne. Undeterred and still horrifically drunk from the night before she lay giggling on the floor like a shit-covered blubber slick.
Luckily I had a wet towel from last night's shower to clean myself up with before I packed in record time, ran downstairs, dropped £25.00 on the bar and ran like a scared little girl to the safety of my car. I have been shot at more than once, found a suspicious package with wires under a car I was about to drive, I've benn stabbed, attacked more times than I can remember but I have never been so scared in my life.
I recommended it as THE place to stay in Largs to my hated boss (the mentalist with cancer from previous posts).
I don't think he liked it.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 15:07, 20 replies)
Just one teensy weensy point?
They're all mutants on the west coast of Scotland
*ducks*
*clicks*
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 15:27, closed)
They're all mutants on the west coast of Scotland
*ducks*
*clicks*
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 15:27, closed)
Morning glory
I can identify with need for the 45° pose over the bog in the morning.
Worth a click just for that!
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 15:28, closed)
I can identify with need for the 45° pose over the bog in the morning.
Worth a click just for that!
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 15:28, closed)
*click*
I adopted the statutory "one hand on the wall behind the cistern, feet apart, 45 degrees to the floor" stance and was just letting fly whan the wall collapsed.
Otherwise known as "The Hitler Piss"
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 15:37, closed)
I adopted the statutory "one hand on the wall behind the cistern, feet apart, 45 degrees to the floor" stance and was just letting fly whan the wall collapsed.
Otherwise known as "The Hitler Piss"
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 15:37, closed)
Okay, no way can I top this.
*doffing flatcap*
*leaves weasel where he is*
Glad you escaped with your virtue intact...
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 15:50, closed)
*doffing flatcap*
*leaves weasel where he is*
Glad you escaped with your virtue intact...
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 15:50, closed)
I call it the "Giraffe Stance" (when trying to urinate with morning glory)
because when they drink water they have to stand in a very similar way (legs far apart & still it's an effort).
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 15:52, closed)
because when they drink water they have to stand in a very similar way (legs far apart & still it's an effort).
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 15:52, closed)
oh my
shit covered blubber slick, i have just nearly pissed myself at work!
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 16:09, closed)
shit covered blubber slick, i have just nearly pissed myself at work!
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 16:09, closed)
Only one word does this image justice
Hrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeuuuuuuuggggghhhhhhhhhh.
(And I was just off awa hame for ma tea as well)
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 18:00, closed)
Hrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeuuuuuuuggggghhhhhhhhhh.
(And I was just off awa hame for ma tea as well)
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 18:00, closed)
please, PL,EASE tell me you're lying!
people like that cannot exist, surely? i shall be using this story to help me lose weight; every time i feel hungry, i shall read it. that should do the trick.
*bokes*
( , Tue 22 Jan 2008, 1:43, closed)
people like that cannot exist, surely? i shall be using this story to help me lose weight; every time i feel hungry, i shall read it. that should do the trick.
*bokes*
( , Tue 22 Jan 2008, 1:43, closed)
I was wrong
Perhaps Edinburgh is the sophisticated end of Scotland.
www.b3ta.com/questions/craphotels/post115418
( , Tue 22 Jan 2008, 8:45, closed)
Perhaps Edinburgh is the sophisticated end of Scotland.
www.b3ta.com/questions/craphotels/post115418
( , Tue 22 Jan 2008, 8:45, closed)
Well ard!
If it scared you then it must of been a grade 1 horror.
( , Tue 22 Jan 2008, 9:13, closed)
If it scared you then it must of been a grade 1 horror.
( , Tue 22 Jan 2008, 9:13, closed)
i don't buy it
I like it, but I don't buy it. Sorry. There's just no way.
Is there?
( , Tue 22 Jan 2008, 13:18, closed)
I like it, but I don't buy it. Sorry. There's just no way.
Is there?
( , Tue 22 Jan 2008, 13:18, closed)
Top quality storytelling
..and for what it's worth I know that peeing technique as "doing a Superman".
( , Tue 22 Jan 2008, 17:05, closed)
..and for what it's worth I know that peeing technique as "doing a Superman".
( , Tue 22 Jan 2008, 17:05, closed)
the morning glory pee
is called doing the hitler/superman/Giraffe Stance apparently
could almost be a QOTW in it's self
oh and
*click* woo-yay
great story
( , Wed 23 Jan 2008, 15:39, closed)
is called doing the hitler/superman/Giraffe Stance apparently
could almost be a QOTW in it's self
oh and
*click* woo-yay
great story
( , Wed 23 Jan 2008, 15:39, closed)
« Go Back